


The Right Side of History

by squintly



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, History, Hux is uptight, Hux thinks he's a good man, Kylo is a child, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Philosophy, and somehow also porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squintly/pseuds/squintly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the first stone was chipped into the first blade history has been a progression of chaos into order, savagery into civilization, anarchy into the rule of law. That is the natural order of things. That is the purpose of life. To resist the siren song of entropy at all costs.</p><p>Kylo Ren does not resist. Ren throws himself into destruction with the fanatical ardor of a madman, reveling in the rubble he leaves in his wake. He is the antithesis of everything Hux believes in. Everything he stands for. Everything he wants. He is a force of nature, like a flood. But even a flood can be tamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They are on the right side of history. This Hux knows in the deepest recesses of his heart.

 

Since the first stone was chipped into the first blade history has been a progression of chaos into order, savagery into civilization, anarchy into the rule of law. Each new generation improves upon the last, setting new standards of behaviour, new expectations, forging roving bands of primitives into cities, kingdoms, empires. Bastions of all that is good. That is the natural order of things. That is the purpose of life. To resist the siren song of entropy at all costs.

 

Kylo Ren does not resist. Kylo Ren throws himself into destruction with the fanatical ardor of a madman, reveling in the rubble he leaves in his wake. He is the antithesis of everything Hux believes in. Everything he stands for. Everything he wants.

 

They are having dinner.

 

Ren eats like a child, far too quickly and as much with his fingers as anything else. He stares into the middle distance, just to the left of Hux's shoulder, smoldering with some nonsensical animal thought Hux doesn't care to contemplate. He picks up a slab of perfectly seasoned meat—vegetables are few and far between on Ren's plate, and largely ignored—and tears off a chunk with his teeth. Pink juices run down his pale fingers in rivulets.  

 

Hux's utensils clink against his plate. Cutting off a one-inch by one-inch piece of his own, he breathes, slow and calm.

 

"Do you mind?"

 

Ren's eyes flit to his. His lower lids twitch up, but he does not speak, leisurely taking another dripping bite.

 

"He is your equal," Supreme Leader Snoke had said. "Treat him as such." Let him eat at your table in the Officer's Mess. Let him sprawl like an uncouth boy all over the officer's lounge. Let him suck the juice off his fingers with sly deliberation as your fingers turn white around your knife and your teeth ache and he _knows_ , the arrogant—

 

Hux breathes, slow and calm. This is beneath him.

 

Ren could eat whenever he wants. It's not as if he keeps regular hours. Yet every other day, here he is, the only appointment he ever bothers to make. He wants Hux to snap, to prove to Supreme Leader Snoke that he is unworthy of his post, to disgrace himself in front of the men he commands. Hux will not rise to the bait. He will not.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

They are in the lounge. Hux sits in a straight-backed arm chair, legs crossed and staring at a neatly itemised report. Ren lays on a chesterfield, one long lanky leg draped over the back and the other sprawling onto the floor. His foot taps arrhythmically. He has no reason to be here.

 

Hux has been staring at the same paragraph for seven minutes. Ren is wearing his helmet. There is no reason for him to be wearing his helmet. They are alone, and Hux has seen his face often enough that he is no longer surprised by it. Ren taps his foot, twice then a pause, once, three times staggered. There is no pattern Hux can discern and it must be deliberate. People adhere to patterns. People are not random.

 

Perhaps Ren is not a person.

 

It's easier to think of him as an animal. A caged beast, mindlessly prowling from food to water to sleep with no motives beyond continued existence. But then Hux will watch him twist a subtle knife into the mind of a prisoner and wring out all their secrets, or see him twirl his lightsaber around in his palm with utter control, or he will move _just so_ with an easy martial grace that transcends the natural and borders on the mathematic. Sublime spirals and curves of motion with none of his usual inefficiencies, none of his needless waste.

 

It doesn't happen often. But it happens enough.

 

Hux turns the page. He hasn't read the last.

 

Ren will not break him.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Hux's door hisses open at two minutes past three in the morning. He scrambles to his feet, muddled and flushed, half asleep and outraged at the dark wild-eyed shadow that pushes into his room. His _private_ room, not meant to be shared, equal only goes so far.

 

"How dare you—"

 

Ren looks at him with a gaze like black fire and Hux's voice fails him. "I figured it out."

 

"What is wrong with you?" Hux snaps, ashamed of the tremor in his voice, ashamed of his rumpled underclothes and the sleep in his eyes.

 

"You're too perfect," Ren says as if that explains everything.

 

There's a witty retort there, but Hux can't find it. Ren's eyes are scaring him. "What?"

 

"I want to break you." Ren steps closer, somehow instantly so close Hux can feel the magnetic tingle flowing around his body. "I can't stand being near you."

 

"The feeling is mutual," Hux begins to say, but Ren is kissing him and the words die in his throat.

 

Hux has never been kissed like this before. Ren's lips scorch, Hux's skin burning where his big hands cup his face. Suddenly there's a wall at his back and one of Ren's hands is dropping to his hip, yanking up his bare thigh so Ren's narrow hips can slot between his legs. Hux fists his hands in Ren's impractical mess of hair to pull him away—

 

But he doesn't.

 

Ren tastes like blood. He kisses and nips, thrusts his tongue inside Hux's mouth then draws back, never doing any one thing for more than two seconds at a time. His hands are running down Hux's sides, pushing up his undershirt, tugging at the waist of his pants, thumbs brushing across his nipples one moment and swiping down his hip bones the next. Hux can't possibly keep up.

 

Some part of him—the part that keeps his fingers in Ren's hair—doesn't want to.

 

There's a convenient path winding its way through Ren's draping clothes and Hux is not surprised, not by the hot aching hardness Ren's hand leads him to or the thick mat of sweat-damp hair at its base. Ren is slightly too big to feel familiar in his hand. Hux squeezes until Ren makes a deep angry noise and grips Hux back. His strokes are rough, uneven, unpracticed and in utter opposition to Hux's quick, efficient rhythm. His hands are scarred where Hux's are sooth, his breath quick and rasping where Hux's is slow and deep, his hips stuttering where Hux's only lean.

 

But Hux can't keep this up. He teeters on the edge of a knife between the satisfaction of doing something well, the low needful noises Ren makes when he sweeps his thumb over his dripping head, and the utter insanity of what they are doing. Ren groans into his neck, nipping and breathing into his skin, and Hux is annoyingly hard, somehow, heat pooling in his belly and heart beating faster and faster as Ren's hand jerks along his shaft. He doesn't know where this came from, doesn't know how it happened, doesn't know why he's running a manicured nail along the underside of Ren's cock, it all just _is_ with no reason, no order, no justification—

 

Ren comes with a hard, rusty moan. His seed spills over Hux's fingers, his palm, messy and filthy and warm and Hux should be disgusted but he's not. Ren's hand slows and speeds and slows again. Hux's breath catches and his heart skips a beat and for a second—

 

Hux is consumed.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Ren leaves without a word. They don't discuss it. Everything is as it was.

 

Only the next night, Hux watches Ren lick sauce off his fingers and excuses himself early, dinner left uneaten. And an hour later the door hisses open and half a heartbeat after that Ren's fingers are in Hux's mouth, savoury and sweet.

 

Hux does not moan when he comes onto Ren's hot, wet tongue. He doesn't moan at all. It's beneath him and Ren Makes enough noise for the both of them.

 

Afterwards, slumped against the wall, Hux threads his fingers through Ren's hair and thinks about wolves. He thinks about bulls and floodwaters, poisonous berries turned sweet, wildfire tamed and turned to the purpose of man. Dangerous, yes, but useful, when sufficiently controlled.

 

Ren falls into a deep and dreamless sleep against Hux's shoulder. The man is insufferable. But the natural order will prevail, one way or another. Not even Ren can resist progress.

 

And in the mean time… Hux will not break. But he might be persuaded to bend.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Certainty has never been Kylo's strong suit.

 

He tries. Supreme Leader Snoke is wise, and he does his best to listen. But sometimes the Dark Side seems so far away. Sometimes what Supreme Leader asks him to do doesn't make any sense. Sometimes he doubts.

 

(More than sometimes.)

 

General Hux has no doubts. (Doubt is weakness and weakness is death and somehow despite everything Hux is strong.) He believes with the fanatical ardor of the mad, speaking with glinting eyes about a new order and restoring the rule of law and setting the universe aright, with a steely confidence that makes victory seem inevitable. Armies cheer. He makes them as sure as he is without even trying.

 

Ren hates him for it.

 

(And other things. His competence, his control. The way he makes Ren feel.)

 

So he hurts Hux in all the little ways he is allowed. Some he discovers by accident. (Too tired to bother with forks, he picks at his food with his fingers and the waves of discontent rolling off Hux shimmer in the air.) Others he crafts the way Hux plans battles. It's a hobby. (And it makes him feel less alone. Hux is the closest thing Kylo has to a friend.)

 

But Hux never blinks. No matter the maelstrom in his mind, no matter the rubble Kylo leaves behind him, he never gives Kylo more than a terse word and a clenched jaw. Kylo pushes and pushes, and nothing, and his frustration plays out in sparks and slag and repairs Hux orders indifferently, as if Kylo's rage is simply a fact of life. (And maybe it is.)

 

Then one night he wakes up from a dream he doesn’t remember (half hard and shivering) and he knows exactly what to do to make Hux flinch.

 

Before he can think, before the doubt can come creeping in, Kylo is at Hux's door, and Hux's hair stands up in eight different directions and there's panic and anger in his eyes and Kylo realizes for the first time that Hux, for all his tempered-metal will, is human. He is a man. A man who kisses him back and comes into his hand with a hiss.

 

Ren needs that. The instant he sees it, he needs it, the same way he needs air. So the next night he takes Hux into his mouth and Hux's hand fists in his hair and he feels Hux's heart flutter against his tongue, tastes him, watches his brows crease and his back arch and for a moment feels like everything he's supposed to be. He feels powerful. He feels sure.

 

It can't last. (Nothing good ever does.) But for a time, in the small hours of the night his feet take him to Hux's door. And Hux lets him in. (And sometimes, just sometimes, Ren doesn't leave.)

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Hux can't give a blowjob to save his life. It's the only thing he's ever seen the man do badly. And Kylo loves it.

 

Drawing back, Hux rubs his jaw, stray hair sticking to his forehead and spit glistening on his chin. "Haven't you had enough?"

 

Kylo looks at him blankly, basking in the eddies of Hux's frustration. "Does it look like I've had enough?"

 

Hux's eyes flit to Kylo's cock, hard and red and shiny, and his blush deepens and spreads to his ears. "You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"

 

Kylo almost smiles. "Obviously."

 

Hux sighs, put-upon and ever-patient, and rolls his eyes. "Why I keep doing this to myself, I have no idea."

 

He takes Kylo back into his mouth, only remembering to bob his head occasionally. Ren slips his hand into his hair.

 

(He thought he had more time.)

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Ren tries to prepare. Distance himself. No more dinners together, no more falling asleep in Hux's arms. (Shouldn't have been doing that anyways. Sentiment is the death of duty.) Hux looks at him oddly from time to time, but he doesn't ask. For all his humanity, Hux is still Hux.

 

Kylo has him on the floor, naked and pale and glorious, stretched out like art and writhing. Trying not to, of course, his mind a litany of _not yet_ and _please_ and technical specifications. It's the closest Hux ever comes to begging, and never once does he make a sound.

 

(Hux has stopped looking up when Kylo enters the room. Ren isn't ready. _Not yet._ )

 

When Kylo's fingers dip behind Hux's balls the other man grabs hold of his hair, tight enough to ache, the knuckles of his other hand between his teeth. A little more, something new, something to keep Hux interested. Hux doesn't flinch as Kylo rubs his finger over the tight ring of muscle, and when Kylo pushes in—

 

Kylo is scrambling backwards before Hux even swings. The clip to his ear doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as the flood of shock and disgust. Hux looks at him, looks at him like he's nothing, like he's less than nothing, like he's some pathetic crawling thing that somehow managed to creep into his bed.

 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

 

Kylo doesn't have an answer.

 

Hux shouts something after him, but Kylo doesn't hear it.

 

(He knew this was going to end. All good things do.)

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Pain is the best motivator. It fuels him, pushing him beyond the point where his body should break. It makes him faster. It makes him stronger. (But never strong enough.)

 

When he wanders it's with his lightsaber in his hand. Sparks trail behind him, down every way but Hux's. And so the need is purged. And after a while, the stench of burning metal soaking into his skin, he wonders why he ever needed it in the first place.

 

It was only hobby, after all.

 

He doesn't see Hux for almost a month. A man with a tight schedule is easy to avoid.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

It's night, some time between midnight and simulated dawn. The ship is asleep. Kylo smashes remotes out of the air one after another, stun bolts flying through the space where his body used to be. In the last three weeks he's gone up two difficulty settings. Supreme Leader is pleased. (For once.)

 

Kylo bats a bolt out of the way, freezes another and spins out of the way of a third and Hux is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a glint in his eye. Three separate blooms of numbness crackle up Kylo's nerves.  With a wave of his hand, the remotes deactivate and fall, lost amid the remains of their counterparts.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Hux's jaw clenches. "Stop destroying my ship."

 

Kylo shoots him a glare. Behind the mask, it doesn't matter. "You have no dominion over me."

 

"Don't be a child," Hux snaps. "Take your anger out on me, if you must. You're hurting the cause."

 

"That's all you care about, isn't it?" Kylo tempers his voice, pacing away and twirling the 'saber in his palm. "The cause."

 

Hux glowers. "Not everyone is as selfish as you."

 

The tip of Kylo's lightsaber hits a downed remote and sends it crashing into the wall to Hux's left. He jumps.

 

"You—!" Hux snaps, eyes wide and impotent rage bubbling in his mind as he strides forwards. "How dare you—"

 

Kylo flicks another piece of wreckage past Hux's head. He bumbles out of the way long after it's already gone, so _slow_ , sluggish as a rusty droid swimming through mud. A fourth piece of debris slices through the leg of his pants, and the fifth hits him in the shoulder. Hux stumbles. (Maybe he isn't so strong after all.)

 

"Will you _stop?_ "

 

Kylo holds the blade level and tilts his head. "Did you not just say to take my anger out on you?"

 

For the first time since Kylo's known him, Hux is speechless. His fury hisses and spits in Kylo's head, caught up in a seething ball that doesn't even have words. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out, until finally he throws his arms out to the side.

 

"Fine then," he snaps. "Do what you will."

 

(It isn't the response Kylo expects. But it should have been. No matter how hard Kylo pushed Hux never broke. Not to this.)

 

Kylo steps forwards. Again. Again. The lightsaber spins in his hand. Hux glares up at him, fists balled at his sides and back straight.

 

"I could kill you," Kylo says, standing close enough that the wavering light tints Hux's eyes red. "It wouldn't be difficult."

 

Hux doesn't blink. "I'm well aware."

 

"You're willing to give your life—" Kylo raises his hand, expecting Hux to flinch. He doesn't. Kylo's black-gloved fingers trail down the side of his face. "—for a hunk of metal and bolts?"

 

He can feel Hux's heartbeat. Can feel his breath, coming swift through his nose. Can feel Hux's urge, to hit him or run Kylo can't tell.

 

"No," Hux says through gritted teeth. "But I'd give it for you."

 

The red light dies.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Kylo isn't sure what's happening. Kylo isn't sure of anything. His helmet clatters to the floor and Hux's hand is in his hair and Hux's lip is between his teeth and he's pushing, forcing Hux backwards to a wall that isn't there. Hux slips on a piece of burnt metal and Kylo is on top of him. It doesn’t feel real.

 

"I hate you," Hux hisses into his mouth, fingers finding all the hidden clasps and buckles of Ren's robe. "Why don't you do as you're told?"

 

Kylo groans. His belt slithers free. Suddenly he's naked from the waist up and he can feel every scar, every mole. Hux shoves at his pants but without Kylo's cooperation he can't get them down past his knees.

 

" _Off_ ," Hux tells him, and Kylo obeys.

 

Hux rolls them. Kylo could stop it but he doesn't. Hux is stripping and all Kylo can do is stare, open-mouthed and lost. They've never touched outside Hux's bedroom. They haven't spoken in weeks. And Hux doesn't break, Hux doesn't blink, where is this coming from—

 

Hux's fingers push into his mouth. He tastes like oil and salt. Ren sucks, the one thing he's better at, and when Hux draws his hand back a trail of spit sticks to his lips.

 

"What—"

 

"Shut up," Hux says, and reaches behind himself.

 

Kylo's hands are on his hips. He feels the shift, sees the furrow in Hux's brow, hears the tiny _tsk_ that escapes through Hux's teeth. Thoughts flit through his mind, spit up by Hux's cauldron of rage; _need him need him now what is wrong with me._ Suddenly Hux's hand is wrapped around Kylo's aching cock and guiding him and—

 

He knows it hurts. Knows Hux _wants_ it to hurt, the way Kylo wants to train until he bruises. Hux hisses through grit teeth and sweat glistens on his forehead.

 

When he's fully seated, something calms. Hux looks at him, palm splayed on his chest. His eyes are darkened, pupils blown huge and deep and full of something Kylo can't quite catch.  This was inevitable, somehow. The end result of a long chain of events stretching back farther than Kylo ever bothered to think.

 

Kylo wants to say something, but he can't find the words.

 

The tension is gone, the anger, and Hux moves slow, methodical, the way he does everything else. He's hot, and tight, and there's too much friction but this isn't about the friction. This is about Hux's hair brushing Kylo's forehead, Kylo's bitten fingernails leaving lines down Hux's pale back, the tiny noise Hux makes when Kylo rolls his hips. The noises get louder, choked, Hux trying to keep them down while Ren for once is silent. He's too busy listening to moan.

 

"Fuck," Hux breathes, rolling back down onto Kylo's cock. " _Fuck_."

 

Kylo's hips stutter and they're rocking faster, moving together and breathing together and Hux keeps talking, keeps swearing, like now that he's started he can't stop. "Fuck, Ren, I… oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

 

Kylo has never heard him curse like this, never heard his voice crack, never seen shivers running down his spine. There's no weight on his arm but it trembles anyway. Kylo lifts him and slams him back down and Hux's head falls back.

 

"Ren, fuck, god, not yet," he gasps, shoving a hand through his own hair and mussing the sweat-soaked strands into unsalvageable perfection. "Not yet." Kylo lifts him again and again and Hux's nails press bruises into Kylo's chest. "Not yet, fuck, Ren, Resurgent class, KDY Destroyer ion engines, what the _fuck_ am I saying?"

 

Kylo laughs for the first time in years.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Hux walks with a limp on the way back to his room. Kylo offered to carry him, but Hux refused, saying the cum dripping down his thighs was humiliation enough, thank you and putting an end to any thoughts in Kylo's head.

 

Kylo doesn't ask if he can come along. He just does, and doesn't think about it at all.

 

Hux flops down on the bed like a soldier returned from war, arm draped over his eyes. Kylo sits cross-legged beside him and waits.

 

"I can never tell what you're going to do," Hux says finally. "It vexes me."

 

Kylo blinks slowly. "I know the feeling."

 

"We're better together, somehow." Hux gestures vaguely. "Did you know, when we were—before, maintenance costs dropped thirteen percent?"

 

"Is that what this is about?" Kylo asks, stretching out beside him. "Maintenance costs?"

 

"No." Hux's arm shifts and he stares at the ceiling with a hint of a frown. "I'm not that heartless."

 

"Getting sentimental, are you?" It's only half a joke, and Kylo isn't sure which answer scares him more.

 

Hux looks at him. His eyelashes are short and pale. "Why didn't you come back?"

 

Kylo's heart patters. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

 

"Whatever gave you that impression?"

 

"That's just how it is. People get bored."

 

"That's inane." Hux rolls over with a sigh. "Don't do it again."

 

Kylo stares at the back of Hux's head for a long, long while. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he turns off the lights.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

(All good things come to an end. The light fades and only darkness remains. Pain is the best motivator and sentiment brings down empires. Kylo knows this.)

 

(But sometimes, and more than sometimes, he doubts.)

 

(And sometimes, he wakes up with his arm around Hux's waist and Hux is breathing deep and slow and steady, and Kylo wonders what breaking him would look like. If it's already happened. If he'd even notice if it did.)

 

(Hux stirs, his hand finding Kylo's before he slips back into sleep. If Kylo wants, he can peek inside, watch tornados spin and panthers prowl and wildfire crackling like his lightsaber. He sees the future in Hux's dreams, not the true one but a kind of certain hope, where no matter what happens one day stretches on after the next and with the turning of the galaxy progress marches steadily on. Hux doesn't see it as hope, but that's what it is. Kylo wonders if it's infectious.)

 

(He isn't sure this is right. Kylo isn't even sure if this is what he wants. But certainty has never been his strong suit, and lying next to Hux listening to him breathe makes Kylo feel a little more human. That used to be a bad thing.)

 

(Now Kylo isn't sure.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay fuck there will probably be a third one because Hux does have reasons for everything he does but for a telepath Kylo is UNOBSERVANT AS HELL. Also I don't think I've ever written a sex scene from the POV of the top before. So if it's janky blame that.


	3. Chapter 3

Progress is inevitable, on the macro scale. A hundred years, a thousand. Things always trend up. But in the meantime…

 

Setbacks are inevitable too.

 

For a time, Hux thinks he has Ren sorted. It isn't so different from before, really, only now he counts sex among Ren's hierarchy of needs, one of the many things Hux must provide to keep the tantrums down and damage to a minimum. And if Hux enjoys himself, well… There's nothing wrong with taking pleasure in your work.

 

But Ren, as Ren must, pushes too far.

 

At first it's the pain. Every muscle in Hux's body is tense, on the verge of orgasm, and Ren's fingers are calloused, fingernails bitten almost to the quick. Then comes the shock, that Ren would dare to just—but of course, this is Ren, there's little he wouldn't dare to do. Less than a blink later comes the rage. What does Ren think he is, a common whore to be held down and fucked, a beast desperate for the rut, some savage willing to spread his legs for a handful of kisses and Ren's perfect broad lips around his cock?

 

Hux smacks at his shoulder and hits his ear instead as Ren scrambles back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

 

He expects Ren to smirk, gloating as if this is a victory and not a juvenile prank, but he doesn't. For a second his dark eyes pinch and deepen like wet wounds and then he turns away, storming off in a flurry of half-straightened clothes.

 

"Ren!" Hux shouts. "Get back here, you—"

 

Ren ignores him.

 

"Bastard," Hux mutters into his empty room.

 

Ren will be back. The beast will get hungry, sooner or later.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Without Ren's nightly visits, Hux suddenly has significant time in which to think. Plan battle strategies, consider new laws, ponder philosophy.

 

Mostly he thinks about Ren.

 

Did Ren expect him to enjoy his little intrusion? Hux knows, on a biological level, that such acts can be pleasurable. Glands and nerve endings and the like. He's never given it much consideration. Unsanitary, uncivilized, and he never expected his experience with men to go beyond the occasional political trysts of his youth.

 

Four days absent Ren, Hux, out of pure academic curiosity, conducts an experiment. Indulging in a real bath for once, he reaches down between his legs. Rubbing the area is pleasant enough. Pressure is… strange, but not painful. Slowly, he presses the tip of his middle finger inside. It doesn't hurt as much as he remembers. He can't say he enjoys it, but after a few deliberate breaths and a concerted effort to relax it's certainly tolerable.

 

Two days after that he does it again. Gathering data. This time he works his finger in all the way to the first knuckle and there is a sense of discomfort, aching muscles stretched too far and a bizarre unbelonging Hux doesn't quite understand, but again, nothing he can't take.

 

On the seventh day Hux discovers soap.

 

The frictionless slide catches him off-guard and his finger slips in far deeper than he expected, almost up to the second knuckle. His breath hitches and his finger crooks and it isn't pleasure, not of the kind he knows, but it isn't pain either. Like a burn just begun to heal, sensitive to the slightest touch. Hux finds himself pursuing it. Before he realizes what's happening he's hard.

 

Hux stops then, ashamed, and lies naked and damp on his bed until his erection flags. It takes a very long time.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

What is it, Hux wonders as he eats alone, that makes this wrong? It cannot be used for procreation, true, but neither can fellatio. And was it that much more unhygienic than lapping at Ren's urethra and getting his blasted pubic hair in his teeth? With the proper precautions, a little preparation, any risk could be sufficiently mitigated. And many societies condoned or even encouraged such behaviour, to strengthen social ties or alleviate tension. Neither was necessary under the rule of law of course, but that didn't make the act itself immoral, any more than sport or friendship or love. Inappropriate, perhaps, for an officer of his stature, but not fundamentally depraved.

 

There is still the psychological side, of course. To have Ren do it, without his permission or even consent, was obviously unacceptable. He was not a plaything to be used. And of course he could never let it go farther. But doing it to himself, that was just pleasure. Nothing more.

 

That night he comes into his bathwater with his middle finger as deep inside him as it will go, crushing his eyes shut against the unexpected brilliance of his clenching muscles, squeezing tight in unconscious ripples that make the thing inside him feel huge. As he lies panting, an idle thought crosses his mind; _how much better Ren would feel_.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

Two is harder than one, and better, and afterwards Hux feel stretched and languid, drifting with an abiding ache deep inside that can stay with him for hours. Eighteen days after Ren's vanishment he tries for three but can't quite find the angle. He's never masturbated so often in such a short period of time. Part of him feels he should be concerned. But it isn't impacting his work. If anything, he's improving; one morning Mitaka reports twenty-five thousand credits of tantrum damage and Hux barely sighs.

 

If it weren't for Ren, he might have continued on that way forever.

 

Hux expected not seeing the man to be a relief, but instead he finds himself lying awake at night waiting for the door to hiss. Suppers are lonely and Ren's chesterfield—now when did it become Ren's chesterfield?—feels like an empty socket missing its irritating black tooth. And always, afterwards, and sometimes before, when Hux allows his mind to wander, it always returns to _him_. His hands. His lips. His eyes.

 

Other things.

 

Hux is re-imagining that night, what would have happened if he'd let Ren have his way. He tries to make his motions coarse, erratic, the way Ren would do it, and while order wins out in the end as it always must the illusion is convincing enough. Ren wouldn't be gentle, it isn't in him, he'd fuck Hux open with his long rough fingers, lapping at his cock and squeezing around the base so he can't come, teasing him to the point of madness and beyond, before flipping him over and—

 

—and _fucking him like a common whore_ and Hux's seed gushes over his hand and his feet kick splashes across the bathroom floor.

 

He takes a bit of a break after that.

 

But the thought is always there. In the back of his mind. Every time he touches himself, it's always there.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

The damage Ren's pouting has caused reaches the millions. Any gains made while they were together burn away and set the rest on fire as well. Something has to be done, and should have been done, long, long ago.

 

He takes an especially lengthy bath that night, part procrastination and part preparation. Ren has distracted him with sex before and wrung dry he'll be focused. A full third of the bottle of personal lubricant he quietly requisitioned goes into it, and by the third orgasm he feels calm enough to take on a pack of rampaging rathtars without flinching. He dresses, straightens his hair, waits for the flush to die down and heads out to the training room where he knows Ren will be. Since the incident, in his efforts to stay as far away from Hux as possible, Ren has gotten positively predictable.

 

He has a speech prepared. Hux always has a speech prepared. But the moment he sees Ren it all flies from his mind like dust before a terrible wind. He is beautiful like this, has always been beautiful like this, moving like a dancer made of terror and rage. He spins and twists, limbs moving independently and in perfect harmony, the lightsaber in his hands as much a part of him as his feet. He really shouldn't be destroying the remotes but Hux doesn't care. Of all the damage Ren does, this is the least.

 

When Ren sees him the pattern breaks and he stops mid-step, three stun bolts slamming into him before he turns the remotes off with a wave. The mask stares at him, blank and unreadable, dead black eyes gleaming red. Hux supresses a shudder.

 

"What are you doing here?" Ren asks in his deep mechanical voice.

 

For half a heartbeat, Hux wants to say 'watching you'. "Stop destroying my ship."

 

And Kylo is a child, of course he is a child, petulant and jealous as if there aren't larger concerns in the universe than Ren's _feelings_. Hux refused him _one_ thing and now he pouts and whines and though the move is telegraphed Hux does not see the remote coming.

 

"You—!" Hux has had enough. "How dare you—"

 

But of course Ren has the skills of a Jedi and a warrior and though Hux has had his fair share of combat training they are nowhere near a match. Ren is a bully holding a book above Hux's head shouting _dance, dance_ and there is absolutely nothing Hux can do about it. All he can do is ask.

 

"Will you _stop_?"

 

Ren's head tilts his head to the side. The mask's eyes shine. "Did you not just say to take my anger out on you?"

 

There is no worse trap to be caught in than one of your own making. Rage burns hot in his chest, rage at Ren and at himself, for ever letting this happen in the first place. Submit to abuse, at the hands of a cur so short-sighted he would hinder the cause for something as petty as revenge, or keep paying for the mistake he never should have made. Keep throwing resources into the void so he can keep his pride. His shoulder throbs and he knows the choice is already made.

 

Nothing stands in the way of progress.

 

"Fine then," he snaps, throwing his arms out and letting them fall back to his sides. "Do what you will."

 

Ren prowls forwards. There's a threat to the way he moves Hux has seen but never been on the other side of. It suddenly occurs to him that Ren might have more than humiliation on his mind. But it doesn't matter, not really. A bruise, a scar, even a lost limb, could all be repaired in one way or another. Pain doesn't frighten him.

 

And if Kylo brings the lightsaber down, if Hux never makes it out of this room alive, well… He has always been prepared to give his life for the cause.

 

And as Ren speaks, low and slow like the purr of a predatory cat, Hux begins to realise something which should have been obvious to him from the beginning.

 

This is why Snoke put them together.

 

"He is your equal," Snoke had said, but it might as well have been opposite. Putting them together is like plunging a brand into ice. Some other would crack, would cower before Ren and feed his ego, let him devolve into a senseless, snarling waste incapable of taking direction, all but useless even in Supreme Leader Snoke's masterful hands. But Hux will not break. He will only bend, melt, not only survive Kylo's heat but thrive in it. Hux tempers the fire in Kylo and Kylo kindles the fire in Hux, and together they will scour the galaxy clean.

 

Hux always thought the First Order would be his legacy. But it isn't. It's Kylo Ren.

 

"You're willing to give your life for a hunk of metal and bolts?" Kylo asks, running his fingers down Hux's face.

 

"No," Hux says, willing to burn and wanting Kylo more than he knows how to say. "But I'd give it for you."

 

Ren doesn't understand. Hux doesn't want him to.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

It's all of his dreams and none of them, Ren dumbfounded above him and beneath him and in him. He's still slick inside though not nearly as much as he should be, and Kylo is even more than he expected, sends him back to burning and the uncomfortable unbelonging he didn't even realise he'd missed. He's hard before he touches himself, hard before he even gets his pants off and this was exactly the sort of thing he'd attempted to prevent but be damned if he cares.

 

Kylo is beautiful. He lies there with his lips parted and his eyes like saucers, like wounds healed over with fresh white skin. He's covered in constellations, dark stars and bright comets, a whole universe for Hux to explore. They are a microcosm of history, savagery and civilization, marching along together and blending one into the other until the definitions change, until the standard moves and the world bends to meet them. Kylo's heart beats under Hux's palm, a quick unsteady rhythm that makes Hux want to smile.

 

He doesn't.

 

He moves instead, arching down to feel Ren's breath on his lips. He wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him but can't, that would be too intimate. As if Kylo throbbing inside him isn't intimate enough. Kylo's fingernails claw down his back and his hips rise, and if that isn't perfect Hux doesn't know what is.

 

It's too much, Hux knows that from the start, too much to keep controlled. But his control is slipping lately and he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He finds himself hissing curses like steam, trying to let off enough not to fall apart, but it doesn't work. It does the opposite of work. Hearing his own voice saying Ren's name makes his toes curl and his back arch. He can't come again, he _can't_ , but he's going to, there's nothing he can do about it and he's yammering technical specifications like a madman trying to slow it down.

 

Kylo laughs, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

\--- --- --- --- ---

 

He doesn't tell Ren everything. He doesn't know if he could put it into words even if he tried, not one Ren can understand. Ren has purpose but he doesn't need it like Hux does. Not in the same way.

 

"Getting sentimental, are you?" Kylo asks.

 

Hux almost says 'Depends on what you mean'. He's invested, certainly. But Ren isn't a useless bauble to be coveted. And if he has to choose, well… Hux is confident he'll never have to chose. The cause marched on before either of them were born and will continue long after both of them die, and to the universe a human lifetime is nothing. The worst they can do is set it back a little, and setbacks are inevitable.

 

Ren stays with him that night. And the next. Not every night—their lives are not entirely their own—but enough for Hux's bed to feel empty without him in it. Maintenance costs plummet. They don't disappear—Hux is not the only thing in Kylo's world—but they improve. They still fight. They will always fight. Sometimes Hux lets Kylo win.

 

They are on the right side of history, Hux knows in the deepest recesses of his heart. And history is a progression, never whole, never finished, never settled. There will always be wild places. There will always be things beyond control. There will always be the likes of Kylo Ren.

 

And perhaps, Hux thinks, watching Kylo sleep, history is better for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is officially the end. It's been a fun ride. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! I certainly did.  
> (Also I realized the way I uploaded this the italics got lost. Hopefully fixing that now.)

**Author's Note:**

> THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL TO THIS BECAUSE GOD DAMN DO I NOT HAVE ENOUGH TO DO.


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